Brimstone, brimstone and fire
by KannaOphelia2019
Summary: Aziraphale looked up from the middle of a sealing circle, where he was carefully binding the ears of a gagged, blindfolded demon, tied tightly to a chair. "Oh, what good timing. Perhaps I am not as dutiful in my work as I should be, because I've never really attempted an exorcism before. Be a dear and do it for me?" Book canon, Aziraphale/Crowley


Crowley was a mostly human-shaped being, but he could do some really interesting things with his tongue. One of them was to taste scents.

He caught the smell of fire outside the bookshop, and for a moment deja vu assaulted him along with the smokiness in his nostrils. Don't panic. There was no flickering light. Be cool. There was probably someone burning rubbish or something. Soho wasn't what it once was.

He flickered his tongue out again, sampling the air. There was something of decay about it that was not quite accounted for by human garbage. A scent of heat on rocks that had been broiling for millennia, but not under any star.

There was a demon in the bookshop, and it wasn't him.

He ran straight into the bookshop. The few customers that had wandered in by mistake turned toward him in surprise, wondering if he was evading the police or something. No other reason for a young man in a sharp suit and sunglasses to run into a mouldering old used book dealership.

Crowley grabbed the shortest, most easily intimidated looking one of them by the collar. "The owner. Where is he?"

The man blinked up at him, mildly alarmed. "In the back. Where the naughty books are kept, I suppose."

Crowley shoved him against a wall of books. They clattered to the floor, and Aziraphale would probably be snippy about it later, so long as there was an Aziraphale to be snippy. He rushed into the back room.

Aziraphale looked up from the middle of a sealing circle, where he was carefully binding the ears of a gagged, blindfolded demon, tied tightly to a chair.

"Oh, what good timing. A few minutes earlier, and she might have seen you or recognised your voice. A few minutes later, and, well, perhaps I am not as dutiful in my work as I should be, because I've never really attempted an exorcism before." He stepped carefully back. "Be a dear and deal with her?"

Crowley grabbed a side table for support. "What on Earth has been going on in here?"

The demon was thrashing, dark curls flying around her honey-coloured throat, and he thought he recognised her. Onoskelis.1 Not like her to come out of her caves. Perhaps Hell thought she would be able to seduce Aziraphale, in which case Crowley was reasonably sure they were barking up the wrong tree, but in any case Onoskelis was bad news. Most demons didn't bother to kill humans, too much chance they would go to Heaven, but she liked a lot of blood on her lovely hands. Crowley was sure she would love the chance to take out an angel.

"This young lady came in to buy a book, and then jumped on me from behind and tried to strangle me." Aziraphale felt his throat warily, grimacing. "Quite determined. When I pulled her off me, I couldn't help noticing that she didn't have any whites to her pretty brown eyes, so I thought it best to seal her until you got here."

"You just assumed I was coming?"

"Of course. I needed you."

Crowley made an inarticulate noise.

"Now, if you would just banish her, or discorporate her, or whatever you need to do, I would be grateful."

"I can't go in the circle, angel," Crowley croaked.

"Oh, I am sorry. Silly of me." Aziraphale rubbed out part of the circle with his heel.

Instead of going to the other demon, Crowley stepped in and hugged Aziraphale, tight and awkwardly. For a moment he couldn't smell sulphur and fire, just books and expensive moisturising cream and luxury soap.

"My dear chap, what has got into you?" Aziraphale patted his back. "Most unlike you."

Crowley pushed away, mortified at himself. "I smelled smoke."

"Just regular old brimstone, I'm afraid. I rather thought it would be you."Aziraphale blushed. "You didn't think the shop was burning again?"

"Ngk." He summoned his courage, went to the kitchen for a knife, and did what he needed to do while Aziraphale looked away, pained.

"My dear, do you have to make such a mess?"

"Would you rather do it yourself?" Crowley made a complicated gesture, and the body and blood vanished. He could still taste it on his tongue, though, bitter and metallic. "I hope she doesn't realise who discorporated her. If she thinks it was you, all the better. I want them thinking twice before they try it again."

"Thank you," Aziraphale said fondly. "My hero."

"No need to be sarcastic." Crowley's hands were shaking embarrassingly.

"I am capable of being sincere on occasion. And you rescued me from a very awkward situation. Tea?"

"Yes, thanks." He flung himself into a chair. "Five sugars."

"Disgusting," Aziraphale said cheerfully. "But perhaps—good for shock." He gave Crowley a piercing look, which Crowley avoided.

They didn't speak again until Aziraphale had sipped from his cup, and Crowley had drained his, welcoming the sweetness and heat.

"I'm hoping she was a one-off, trying her luck," Aziraphale said. "You said your side were pretending the whole incident never happened."

"Yeah. Think so."

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you really don't seem yourself," Aziraphale sighed. "Won't you talk to me?"

"Thoughtyouweredeadagain," muttered Crowley. "You're so bloody careless."

"And you would be very upset if I was," Aziraphale said, carefully.

"What do you think?" Crowley folded his arms across his chest.

Aziraphale leaned across, and with a surprisingly swift movement, pulled off Crowley's dark glasses. The demon felt mercilessly exposed, and bit his lip, determined not to show any vulnerability by grabbing his glasses back.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said. "For how long?"

"For how long what?"

Aziraphale looked reproachfully at him. "My dear."

"Dunno. Came on slowly, like a really bad cold, and didn't go away."

"I suppose love could be rather like the flu for a demon."

"Oh, have some mercy, angel and don't use that word."

Aziraphale put down his cup with prim precision, rose up, circled the table, and put a hand on either side of Crowley's face. By the time Crowley realised he was going to be kissed it had happened already, and his arms were still folded across his chest, but Aziraphale was looking at him like… like...

"You, too?" Crowley rasped.

"Me too. Seemed better to ignore it. I didn't think a demon was capable of..."

It was really, really important to stop Aziraphale saying the word, because if Hell heard it, he was in trouble and no mistake. And of course, the most logical way to stop it was to crush it from his lips, and use his tongue to steal it from Aziraphale's tongue just in case, and oh, how could anyone's mouth taste so sweet, any form be as comforting to touch as this solid one under the merino cardigan? Must be an angel thing. Not just any angel, though. This one.

So long as Aziraphale didn't say it, there would be plausible deniability. Even if they were kissing in the back room of the bookshop, even if he was going to go throw the customers out the moment he could bear to stop kissing long enough. Lust was all right, and it could be tempting an angel. Just so long as neither of them said it.

He pulled back a moment, and Aziraphale's blue eyes were shining with love. Crowley was humiliatingly sure his looked the same.

It didn't matter. As long as he could fill his senses of smell and taste with Aziraphale, even his own brimstone couldn't touch him.

1 Onoskelis is a demon who dwells in caves and ravines, perverts men sexually to worship her or kills them indiscriminately. Her demon mark is that of a mule. (Testament of Solomon)


End file.
